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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29981223">Apollo's Flower</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LSR04/pseuds/LSR04'>LSR04</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Ancient Greek Religion &amp; Lore, Percy Jackson and the Olympians &amp; Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ancient Greece, Character Death, Comfort, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fluff, Friendship, Gay, Love, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, References to Ancient Greek Religion &amp; Lore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:22:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,888</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29981223</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LSR04/pseuds/LSR04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the early spring, Apollo drives his cattle across Sparta and his eyes fall to the young Prince Hyacinthus, sitting alone upon the castle walls. Stricken like every man and woman to see him, Apollo falls under his spell of beauty, unaware of Zephyrus: God of the West Wind, consumed by jealousy is watching them from not far away.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Apollo/Hyacinthus (Ancient Greek Religion &amp; Lore), Apollo/Hyacinthus (Percy Jackson)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>perseus jackson</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1: The Lonely Prince</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On a stretch of Greece's coast, protected by the Ossa mountains, King Pierus ruled the coastal region of Magnesia, named for King Magnes. The green rolling hills fed into white sands with water so blue it rivaled the sky. After he had inherited the throne, he met his first wife and had four smart and attractive children who all could rule the kingdom with grace and success.</p><p>Mere years after their last child’s birth, his first wife had died. Upon a campaign through the highlands of Greece, he fell in love with the muse Clio. She bore one more child for the Magnesia throne, and the youngest prince outshone his siblings the day he was born. </p><p>Unlike his siblings he had her dark hair, the long graceful hands of a musician, and her absurdly sharp mind. He grew from a stunning child to a young man of extraordinary and remarkable beauty, beloved by all who saw him. Hyacinthus grew muscled yet slender, with bronze skin and dark, curly hair that floated in soft waves around his ears and shoulders.</p><p>His admirers claimed he had a smile whiter than the sands of Magnesia and a voice that mimicked the tones of a lyre.</p><p>He caught the eye of every person who saw a glimpse of the young royal, and the gods of Olympus were no exception. An early contender for his heart was the West-Wind: Zephyrus but however much Zephyrus tried, he was similar to mortals in the way Hyacinthus never spared so much as a second look at him. </p><p>Early spring, Hyacinthus found himself wandering the palace in his loneliness. His older brothers Argalus and Cynortas were consumed by the tasks of being heirs to the kingdom, most likely gone for a month or two with his father and his two sisters were similarly both lost to him, consumed by their own adult lives.</p><p>He was younger than all the others by about 10 years. His once boyish habits had long since quelled however, and his slow life inside the castle walls left him studying and reading in quiet solitude.</p><p>In the heavy heat of the Greek sun, the prince sat on the ledge of a stone wall, watching the sun slowly set on the horizon. The light cast a glow upon his skin, leaving him a glittering beacon of beauty to all who saw him in the village below. While he might only be a speck of gold in the distance, their subjects all cultivated their myths and gossip about the young prince.</p><p>Apollo was lazily herding his cattle across the sky, lost in thought when in the distance, a young boy was lit up in the golden glow he cast upon the land. He shined a jewel on top of the wall where he sat with legs crossed. </p><p>In his typical fashion, the sun god glowed like pure light in his chariot. As he drew closer to the boy, his brightness drew his eye as he turned himself ever so slightly to observe the god. With his full attention on him, Apollo was immediately stricken with the pure beauty before him. Dressed in white, he looked like a god himself in his short, thin tunic that left his strong arms and legs exposed to the sun himself. </p><p>As Apollo drew near, he disposed of his chariot, letting it carry itself towards the setting sun, praying that the cattle would follow, however one can never be so sure with cows.</p><p>Gracefully, he set himself down next to the boy who watched him with eyes of a deep purple. No wonder he was so beautiful, he wasn’t mortal. His skin was smooth like Aphrodite, his hair dark like Athena’s, yet here he was in a castle. Not Olympus. </p><p>While he didn’t jump up in fear, the boy’s quick eyes and raise of his shoulders told Apollo how tense he must be. The royal bowed his head smoothly in acknowledgement of Apollo who cast an easy smile back.</p><p>It was the prince who spoke first.</p><p>“I am Prince Hyacinthus. It is a pleasure to meet you.”</p><p>To Apollo, Hyacinthus’ voice sounded like music. Neither deep like a bulky warriors’ nor high like the nymphs that danced in the forest up north. To him it flowed like a river and his words were crisp with the clarity of speech that educated royalty possessed.</p><p>“Apollo, your highness,” the god responded and took the hand nearest to him, leaving a soft kiss on the back that much to his delight had the prince’s cheeks and neck turning a rosy shade. </p><p>With the downcast eyes of youthful modesty, he smiled.</p><p>“No need for such titles, you quite outrank me.” </p><p>With a laugh, the god stood and the prince gracefully followed. After bashfully inviting him to a late dinner, (as a courteous prince would) Hyacinthus prayed that gods actually ate mortal food.</p><p>___________________________________</p><p>Hyacinthus quickly ducked into the kitchen they walked to, pushing the large door with his shoulder and slipping inside. Mere moments later, he hustled back out with two full plates of bread and fish, both balancing on his hands while someone held the door for him from the inside. </p><p>The strap of his tunic had fallen from his shoulder.</p><p>Carrying both plates, the prince led them to the garden. In the golden light of the sun, the garden was stunning. Nothing compared to Olympus’, however the deep greens of the grass and winding ivy that wound up the pillars of a pavilion was definitely made for royalty.</p><p>They followed a bricked path to the pavilion, skirting around a pool of water where plants floated absentmindedly on the top.</p><p>Hyacinthus placed the food onto the table where some invisible servant had already laid out utensils and wine.</p><p>“Why do you eat out here?” Apollo probed Hyacinthus once they had settled. Dark purple eyes caught his and held them. The garden was most definitely a work of art, however it was not a place for the dinner of royals.</p><p>“In all honesty, my family and I have not eaten together much in these recent years. My mother took her leave when I was young and my father and siblings have their own lives that do not permit for leisure I suppose.”</p><p>“And yours does?”</p><p>The blush returned. </p><p>“I’m the youngest. My only job is to be pretty.”</p><p>“You do a great job then.”</p><p>Sending a wink his way, Hyacinthus’ blush deepened and an easy laugh passed between them in the dimming light.</p><p>They ate and drank, and conversation passed naturally between them. The prince had social skills that earned him his reputation of, 'loved by all,' and they came as easily as a smile to him.</p><p>After their meal, they stood, deciding to walk for a while around the expansive gardens. At some point when they had circled past the table again, it seemed a shadow had taken their plates and the table cleaned of all cups and mess that the prince hadn’t made. Together they lost track of time and Hyacinthus listened with rapt interest as Apollo finished his story about how a centaur had found himself wrapped up with the Goddess of Love.</p><p>As Hyacinthus' laugh died out, and Apollo tore his attention away from the prince in the enchanting light of the setting sun, his dark eyes alight in excitement and smile wide.</p><p>Noticing that twilight was quickly approaching he sighed to himself mournfully.</p><p>“Sadly, I must leave us for now as I seem to have left my cattle and sun wandering due west, however I would like to ask if you are free this time next week for archery?”</p><p>Hyacinthus’ abandoned smile graced his features once again at the invitation from the god.</p><p>“I would love nothing more,” he said as he looked up to the god that towered above him.</p><p>In the deepening colors of the setting sun, Apollo’s blonde hair caught the light and glistened like gold, his blue eyes contrasting beautifully.</p><p>With a hum of contentment, Apollo reached down and picked up the prince’s hand in his own. Clasped between the god’s absurdly warm ones, Hyacinthus looked up, and if it were not for the dim light, Apollo would have seen the furious blush he had.</p><p>With a kiss on his knuckles that lasted a breath longer than the one when they had met earlier, Apollo’s voice was barely a whisper.</p><p>“I’ll see you soon my prince.”</p><p>With that, the god turned and floated away; disappearing towards the sliver of sun that remained. He faded into a glowing speck of light that took its place among the newly appearing stars in the sky.</p><p>Had Apollo turned around he would have seen that Hyacinthus held the hand he had kissed moments before close to his heart.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2: The Garden</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Once Apollo was long gone into the night sky, Hyacinthus turned from the garden and retreated for the night. All night he ran their interaction through his head, and before he knew it morning had come. </p><p>The sun shone through his window.</p><p>It reminded him of Apollo’s hair.</p><p>If the palace staff noticed his absurdly good mood, they made no comment. Hyacinthus spent the days after their first meeting mindlessly fussing with his plants in the garden or training with instructors who never pushed him too far. It had been long since he had school work to do or any jobs in fact. Being fifth in line for the throne wasn’t exactly a demanding position.</p><p>The boy today walked barefoot deep into the garden, the heels of his feet stained brown from the soft dirt beneath him. He had one place he loved, which was where he was surrounded by trees with long branches and pools of water where as a child he had set boats of folded leaves sailing. </p><p>The tree by the pond, buried deep into the garden was a refuge from nothing. It was just shady.</p><p>The sun was bright overhead which set his skin with a thin sweat that he warded off unsuccessfully by hiding in the shade of the tree. From his chariot in the sky, Apollo watched as the prince laid himself by its roots and closed his eyes.</p><p>It wasn’t long till the prince was asleep, his lips parted and shoulders relaxed. Hyacinthus could have been a painting. In his slumber, he laid still in the shade, surrounded by small white flowers that matched the tunic that rid high up his thighs.</p><p>Apollo watched him from his place in the sky for as long as he could. </p><p>He watched as a maid of some type had roused him for dinner. </p><p>He watched as Hyacinthus ate it alone in the garden.<br/>
___________________________________</p><p>The next day was the day that they were to meet for a day of archery and Apollo watched for a while as Hyacinthus spent his morning with a few rolls of bread, making a crown of grass and those white flowers he laid upon the day earlier. His quick hands folded into patterns that locked each in place.</p><p>At some point a worker had brought a dish of olives and cheese for the prince.</p><p>It was untouched.</p><p>Hours had passed and the midday sun had set as the prince still worked on the flower crown. He had finished the grass base and now was weaving the flowers he had gathered like a schoolgirl into the exterior.</p><p>He knew when Apollo had set himself down next to him because of the way that his entire left side had warmed like bread in the fire.</p><p>Apollo watched quietly, his head back against the tree behind them as Hyacinthus’ long fingers tucked stems into and through the crown. The prince tucked the last of the flowers around the edge of the arrangement and turned to Apollo whose eyes tracked his movements.</p><p>Shifting onto his knees, the young prince put the crown onto the god’s hair, Apollo’s eyes never leaving his.</p><p>“Thank you, your highness.”</p><p>“Quit with the titles.”</p><p>With that Apollo stood and walked across to the pool of dark water and stared at his reflection. His tan skin glowing with the light of the sun and his unshorn hair flattened by the green crown upon his head.</p><p>Behind him, Hyacinthus watched his movement, still kneeling in the grass, and his sandals discarded a few feet off. </p><p>Turning, Apollo with the crown still on his head, extended his hand to the prince, hoisting him to his feet. </p><p>“Shall we?”</p><p>Together they walked off to the archery fields, past the center of the castle and out the centermost walls. With sandals in one hand, they walked side by side, to the targets with bows and arrows layed out.</p><p>Hyacinthus had the schedule so the fields weren’t in use all day.</p><p>Apollo had his own bow, seemingly pulling it from nowhere. And Hyacinthus pulled his sandals on while the god shot arrows of pure light straight through the center of the target with unmatched grace. </p><p>The prince was dressed in his everyday tunic and sandals. Apollo wore his golden tunic and a red cloth around his waist and over his shoulder. Hyacinthus watched his muscled back and shoulders send arrows soaring at targets effortlessly.</p><p>“Enjoying the view?” Apollo asked with a laugh, casting a quick glance back to where Hyacinthus was on the ground. </p><p>The prince resumed putting on his other sandal, his ears burning.</p><p>Standing, he grabbed his bow and arrows taking his place next to Apollo. Together they shot, laughing and speaking informally. As if he wasn’t a god, and he wasn’t a prince. It wasn’t that Hyacinthus was a bad shot, but his arrows always soared a tad right of where he aimed.</p><p>Eventually, Apollo set his bow down and came over to where Hyacinthus had been aiming at a set of clay disks. Standing close behind him, the words on his lips died as warm hands traced his arms.</p><p>Hyacinthus felt where Apollo had pressed himself against him. The way Apollo’s arms shadowed his. The way his head was ducked into the crook of his neck. Leaning in close, the god shifted the prince’s right arm ever so slightly forward with a feathery touch.</p><p>“You were pulling your shots right because of your angle here,” his right hand touched Hyacinthus’ exposed shoulder like a whisper, sending a splattering of goosebumps down his arm that Apollo pretended not to notice.</p><p>Hyacinthus released the arrow and surely enough, it hit the target square in the center.</p><p>It was he who stepped away from Apollo behind him, and turned and looked up to the god who was still very much so in his personal space. </p><p>“Would you care for some dinner? I seem to have broken quite the sweat by now,” as the prince turned to put his bow away, he turned for a split second more, a glint in his eye that Apollo could get used to seeing.<br/>
___________________________________</p><p>After putting away their things, Hyacinthus had left Apollo in the garden so he could freshen up. He had offered a room to the god so he could do the same, but apparently gods don't sweat.</p><p>Apollo watched as 20 minutes later, the prince returned freshly bathed. His skin was clean, barefoot in the cool grass, his feet staining with dirt once again. His long, curly locks of hair were damp.</p><p>For once the night had a bit of a cool breeze that sent Hyacinth’s tunic fluttering around his thighs.</p><p>Dinner was already served on the table they had eaten at last week. Wine, bread, cheese, olives, and figs were in front of them. This time, candles adorned the table to light them in the fading light.</p><p>Their meal was similar to last time as they talked and laughed; comfortable around each other. In the darkness of night, they parted, this time with promises of music and figs next to their pond in five days time. </p><p> </p><p>The prince thought the god looked, well, godly.  The dim glow of his skin set his golden tunic gleaming and his smile could cause heatstroke. Before he left, Apollo turned and tucked a white flower that had fallen from the crown behind his majesty’s ear.</p><p>Hyacinthus held his breath in the quiet of the night as Apollo left him in the garden.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3: Golden</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Apollo came to the garden and played music for his prince. His lyre sang like it had a voice, the tones like water; it was flowing and occupied every nerve in Hyacinthus’ body. He strummed idly as Hyacinthus’ head eventually dropped and his eyes fluttered shut, his breaths evening and shoulders lowering. Still playing, Apollo studied his face; the way his jaw softened its curve in his sleep, the way his arms folded into a pillow under his head.</p><p>The way his skin glowed in the midday sun. The way his lips parted, a vibrant red from figs a servant had brought hours before.</p><p>As spring progressed, he also taught Hyacinthus the ways of prophecies and how to make music flow rather than stutter like the prince when Apollo brushed loose hairs behind his ears or slipped a hand to the low curve of his back. They were together nearly every day now, his father and brothers still away. </p><p>Apollo would bring him small gifts: olives from the best tree of Greece, or a necklace with a small carving of a sun. Apollo fastened the necklace around Hyacinthus' slender neck, his warm breath hitting the back of his shoulder and the sun settled into the dip of his throat.</p><p>They laid under their tree later, Apollo humming a tune like silk and Hyacinthus asleep: head in his lap. When he thought the prince was asleep, he would run his hand through his sweeping curls. Every time, Hyacinthus’ heart would race and Apollo would smile to himself and pretend not to notice.</p><p>When they parted now, Apollo would leave a scorching kiss on his forehead and Hyacinthus would wrap his arms around his torso in a comfortable embrace. He would try to hide his blush by burying his head into the tunic of the god. </p><p>Apollo would lean his head down and smile into the top of the prince’s hair.</p><p>He smelled like the white flowers in the garden.<br/>___________________________________	</p><p>In the middle of Spring, the skies were a clear blue. Apollo appeared in a chariot, pulled by swans. Leading the boy up and into it, he sailed them into the sky by the powerful wings of the white birds. Together they flew over Greece, and everywhere the sun touched.</p><p>Hyacinthus grasped onto Apollo with a grip of steel however, he was not afraid. He watched with wide eyes as together they soared high over fields of grain, waving in the wind, and over towns that had dirt roads rather than the stone of the palace.</p><p>Was this what it was like to be a god? He looked up to Apollo at his side, and found Apollo was already looking down to him rather than at the land beneath them.</p><p>As the sun set and Hyacinthus with tired legs, they landed back at the castle. Hyacinthus with hair whipped by wind and cheeks flushed from the sun, he raised on his toes, a hand outstretched and placed a kiss as soft as a petal to Apollo’s lips. </p><p>As the prince left for bed, he let his eyes flit back to Apollo’s face.</p><p>He could feel the warmth of his smile from across the courtyard.<br/>___________________________________	<br/>The servants would always bow as Apollo and Hyacinthus would walk past, often hand in hand. They never spoke a word about it, but they certainly gossiped. The talk spread from servant to messenger, to trader to noble, to princes to kings, and then to the gods. </p><p>As the two were wrapped up in each other in their garden, often speaking of art or of music, the gods would look down from the sky and watch. They saw as Apollo never tore his eyes from the prince and as the prince never ceased to blush at the private compliments and jokes of the god. It seemed to be a miracle. Apollo was known for his flashiness, his love for the dramatics yet this boy was never shown off to the world like a trophy. He and the prince merely kept to themselves and their garden.</p><p>One of these gods was Zephyrus whose anger raged. He had approached Hyacinthus first, yet his advances had been declined. Why was it that Apollo was the one with the prince in the garden, between his thighs?</p><p>He watched the two frequently, often ignoring his work as a god and instead fuming as Hyacinthus would stare up to Apollo as if he was the world itself. Zephyrus’ winds that spring ravaged the countryside with hot whipping winds that tore plants from the ground.<br/>___________________________________	</p><p>In the second month of their time together, Apollo saw the change in Hyacinthus. The timid, blushing prince who he met on the wall was no longer. In his place was a youthful, energetic boy who had a passion for the outdoors, for the music that Apollo played, and for flying in the chariot of swans Apollo had gifted him. </p><p>He still blushed a furious red at the comments that flowed from Apollo’s lips when only their ears could hear them.</p><p>Some days they would land their chariot on grassy fields far from the palace and find themselves laughing till their sides hurt and rolling down hills as boys would do. At this the gods of Greece would smile, seeing Apollo fall into a love they had not seen since Daphne many years ago.</p><p>Zephyrus fumed.</p><p>Today they laid on a golden hill, miles away from people who might see and bother them. Between them slow and soft kisses passed, hands twirling into hair and tunics. With the warm sun on their backs and ground beneath their feet, together they were happy.</p><p>Apollo watched as Hyacinthus would gather wildflowers and let him weave them into his golden hair. Hyacinthus would watch as the sun set Apollo ablaze, gleaming golden. </p><p>His hair. His tunic. His skin.</p><p>Hyacinth went to weave a blue flower behind his ear. Apollo caught his hand and left a lingering kiss on the back as he once did atop a castle wall months ago. Hyacinthus still blushed as he did atop that wall.</p><p>“Your highness, you command me.”<br/>___________________________________</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4: With Eyes that Never Wept</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They had been walking for miles, now into a valley near Amyklai with nothing but the birds and the sounds of their breath to break the silence of uninterrupted nature. The god watched as a sweat broke out upon the back of Hyacinthus’ neck under the new summer sun.</p><p>Spring had passed and today was the first time in weeks that hot spring rains did not turn the ground to mud. The prince was scrambling down a rocky hill to a green valley where they could run and laugh, secluded from the world. Apollo had made it down minutes earlier in a graceful way, however Hyacinthus did not have these gifts and many times, Apollo held his breath as the prince stumbled and almost flew from the rocks to the ground beneath him. </p><p>When he landed on the ground next to Apollo in an ungraceful heap, the god tried to stifle a laugh as Hyacinthus fought to catch his breath.  After a long minute of recuperation, he extended a hand and hoisted the prince to his feet as if he weighed nothing. </p><p>Hyacinthus dropped his bag from his shoulder at the base of a tree, and looked over to Apollo who was lost in thought a few paces away. His broad shoulders and golden hair gleamed under the summer sun. His tunic swayed in the slight breeze and Hyacinthus couldn’t tear his eyes away. Regardless of their trek to the valley, Apollo’s hair was perfect, a bit longer now as the golden locks grew to his neck and developed a slight wave to them. His blue eyes shone like gems and no sweat dirtied his skin like it did Hyacinthus’.</p><p>Apollo pulled himself from his mind and turned to Hyacinthus who quickly dropped his gaze and pretended to futz around with the items in his bag. In his search for nothing, he pulled out a quoit. The quoit, or ring, was made of a thick iron band that a person was to throw around a peg in the distance, however, here in the green valley, no such peg existed. </p><p>“I can’t throw nearly as far as you, so I'll run for it if you’ll throw it,” Hyacinthus said, pressing the ring into Apollo’s hand. </p><p>Apollo secured that the red fabric of his tunic was tucked into place over his shoulder and backed up. Laughing to the boyish fun he threw easily, not putting forth all his effort. With a smile and his shoes under the tree near his pack, Hyacinthus ran gleefully barefoot: tracking the disc as it soared for a bit over the few trees of the green valley.</p><p>If there was one thing he was good at, it was running. He loved the feel of the air around his legs and the grass under his feet. He dashed down the valley and let the disc hit the ground several paces ahead of him. Picking it up he turned and made his way back to Apollo who had similarly discarded his shoes and was standing barefoot in the grass of the valley. </p><p>They repeated this routine many times, and their laughter reached the ears of the gods above. They looked down upon the two, and among those gods was Zephyrus. When the others turned their attention away, he still watched.</p><p>“Apollo, throw it as far as you can, I know you’re holding out on me here.”</p><p>With a smile, Apollo launched the ring as far as he could. It sliced through the clouds and disappeared into the sky. This didn’t put Hyacinthus off as he raced to find it, regardless of the fact that it was gone from his sight.</p><p>Hearing his laugh and feeling the prince’s love for the god from in the sky, Zephyrus breathed in anger. That breath turned into a hot arrow of wind that sailed after the prince who ran as if he were a young boy playing games in school.</p><p>Hyacinthus saw the ring coming to the ground ahead of him and reeled his speed in to give it space to land safely ahead of him. It hit a rock rather than soft grass, and the hot wind of Zephyrus shot the ring back and into Hyacinthus who had no time to turn and cover himself. </p><p>With a sickening crack, the ring slammed into the side of his head.<br/>
___________________________________</p><p>“Hyacinthus?” Apollo yelled into the distance when the prince did not return as he usually did. </p><p>He tried once again.</p><p>“Hyacinthus!”</p><p>No one called back.</p><p>Racing with the speed of Hermes, Apollo saw him. </p><p>In a meadow of flowers, an unmoving boy laid as if asleep, his white tunic aglow in the sunlight.</p><p>Apollo’s once golden skin went pale as Hyacinthus’.</p><p>“Hyacinthus!” he cried as he knelt next to the boy. Turning him over, he saw the ring a few paces away. Pulling his head into his lap, blood pooled in streams into the grass beneath his feet. His once warm skin and youthful eyes faded as Apollo held him. </p><p>He tried everything under the sun. Herbs and every remedy the god knew could not save him, and deep inside Apollo knew this. No injury like this could be fixed, even with the nectar of the gods, which he did try. </p><p>No medicine could heal the wounds of fate.</p><p>His shaking hands held Hyacinthus’ sad and huddled form when his head finally fell limp against the god. Apollo wept with eyes that never wept over the still body of the prince, and cries of anguish tore from his throat.</p><p>The flowers around them wilted as the sun went dark over them, a storm of harsh winds and anger spun around the valley. </p><p>“What did I do to deserve this?” he spoke as if the prince would answer him.</p><p>“Was loving you a crime? What did I do wrong?” His sobs wracked the earth, the gods all turning away as Apollo sobbed in his grief over the beauty of Sparta.<br/>
___________________________________</p><p>When Hades came to collect the boy, Apollo would not let him. He would not doom him to a life in the underworld. </p><p>From the place where he died, flowers grew. Stained deep reds and purples like the eyes and blood of Hyacinthus, it was beautiful like him. The petals were detailed with the cries of Apollo and the words of his grief were written into the flower.<br/>
___________________________________</p><p>When Apollo visited the valley, these flowers swamped the meadow where he had died. </p><p>The garden where they spent their time no longer grew their white flowers.</p><p>Apollo made people remember Hyacinthus as a hero. A shrine was built for him in Amyklai where they had once escaped from the palace to, and played like boys, and loved each other in their youth.<br/>
___________________________________</p><p>In the spring, the hyacinth flower grows in honor of the prince.<br/>
___________________________________</p>
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